


And They Kiss

by Shattered_Mirrors_and_Lace



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-25 15:05:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10766724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shattered_Mirrors_and_Lace/pseuds/Shattered_Mirrors_and_Lace
Summary: It’s something they do, a ritual of sorts, as the stage lights dim and the roar of the kids is all that’s left. The last chord is strummed, the final note resonating in an arena as everything goes pitch black. It’s the eerie calmness that comes after a storm, after a show where the crowd is as alive as the music, making it more than riffs and beats of a drum, of words falling from Patrick’s mouth into a microphone.It’s alive.It’s electric.And they kiss.





	And They Kiss

It’s something they do, a ritual of sorts, as the stage lights dim and the roar of the kids is all that’s left. The last chord is strummed, the final note resonating in an arena as everything goes pitch black. It’s the eerie calmness that comes after a storm, after a show where the crowd is as alive as the music, making it more than riffs and beats of a drum, of words falling from Patrick’s mouth into a microphone. 

It’s alive.

 

It’s electric.

 

And they kiss.

 

It’s the post-show, post-encore adrenaline running through their veins—the calming, floating fall of their performance high settling over them as they run off the stage, the crowd cheering for ‘one more song’ after their encore. They did that, _they_ caused the static in the arena, filling the air, surrounding their bodies. It’s enthralling, and they bask in it, in the fact that four kids from Chicago with a dream caused _this_.

 

It’s something that’s theirs, no matter how many years, how many shows, how many fans they’ve played for, it’s undeniably, indescribably  _theirs_.

 

In the shadows of the stage wings, crashing from their high, lips find each other almost innately, exchanging a sweet but desperate kiss, filled with promises and what’s to come as soon as they get into a bus, a hotel, a bed, a bunk, or just home.

 

It’s time stopping in a whirlwind of movement—of people talking, the crowds frantic cheering, the crew moving like lightning around them, and it’s perfectly theirs, even if it’s for no more than a few seconds.

 

It’s the gentle pull away, their foreheads touching, basking in the post-show afterglow, blood-pulsing and an all too familiar ringing in their ears, Pete’s stupidly big grin and Patrick’s flushed cheeks, sweat making his hair stick to his temples under his fedora, soaking through their clothes.

 

And just as soon as it started, it’s over, pulled back into space and time, into the rush that is post-show madness, of cargo being loaded up, of equipment being moved around and hauled away. They hold hands as their rushed through the back, and it falls back into a careful routine that has developed over the years— they change, meet the fans outside the venue, sign a few autographs, and then whisked away on a van, a bus, or a plane to their next destination. A new show, a new city, another day.

 

It happens in a blur, moving colors, pictures, eye-blinding flashes, calls of their names, a hug, a grab, another yell, one more picture, two more flashes, and then the world falls silent once again.

 

And they’re alone together again after Joe and Andy wish them good night as they all clap hands and share friendly hugs before boarding their bus, or going to a separate room.

 

It’s always been them in the end.

 

Pete and Patrick.

 

Patrick and Pete.

 

Yin and yang.

 

Light and dark.

 

It’s tan hands contrasting beautifully on pale skin, of lips kissed red and careful marks along skin. It’s of fingers tracing dark lines of ink decorating fragile skin, of the keyhole on a bicep, of the necklace of thorns resting against chest, of lips against an age-old scar above a blonde-brown eyebrow and along the freckles adoring shoulders and checks.

 

Seasons change, but this never does.

 

It’s clockwork-comfort, just the two of them alone, basking in the silence that comes once the roar of the crowd fades out and all that’s left is the rhythm of their hearts beating as one, in a bunk, on a sofa, in a van, or in a bed.

 

Clothes are optional, they always have been, but lately, they crave the feeling of it all stripped away.

 

It’s grounding, bringing them down from their high, soothing the electric sunshine running through their veins. It’s better than any drug, and the crash is nothing but gentle waves when they’re together.

 

 _I love you’s_ are whispered in the quiet shadows of a moving van, in the way their fingers slot perfectly with each other. They are their own perfect jigsaw, the pieces fitting snuggly like oh so necessary gloves in the harsh Chicago winters.

 

 _I love you’s_ are unspoken in the slow kisses placed along the neck of a best friend, of a lover, of a husband, covered in sweat and come and tears dressed in the tangled sheets of a bunk or a bed. Their own oasis away from the stage, from the cameras, from the public.

 

 _I love you’s_ are in the touches that come when the sunlight filters through a window, casting an ethereal glow over the two of them; no one knows their bodies like each other, every scar, every mark, they know it all by heart.

 

Another sunrise, another city, another bus, another show.

 

Another moment in the dark of the wings before the lights turn on, the roar of a new crowd sending a familiar current through the four of them.

 

It’s simple gesture, but it’s become so ingrained in them over the years— they stand in a circle, hands slapping together in the darkness as they give each other a high-five. It’s an unspoken encouragement, a wish of ‘Good Luck’ and ‘We got this’ when there wasn’t time for worried nerves. It’s time to get down to business, their instruments as weapon as they prepare the face the oncoming storm, the air crackling, the ground shaking. The four have them have done this for years, in different cities, different states, different countries, but the hurricane of energy is forever the same.  

 

They’ll face the raging storm head on, they always have, and always will until the day it dies to nothing; they’re fans have yet to let it die, they believe in them, after all these years, they are are currents, the engery, the rain, and the whirling wind.

 

Believers never die, they’ve proved that to them.

 

Andy and Joe soldier off to their side of the stage, another grin, another wave, one last playful jest until it’s only the two of them, Pete and Patrick, Patrick and Pete.

Foreheads touch as the countdown begins, they’ll weather it out in this shadowed shelter, away from the crowds, away from the crew.

 

“I love you so much.”

 

The lights fade up, the roar of the crowd crescendos, the air becomes thick with energy, adrenaline, and anticipation. Fingers are twitching, the rhythm bouncing, the arena feels electric.

 

It’s the perfect storm for a perfect show.

 

“Show time,” Pete grins, pushing down the nerves bubbling in the pit of his stomach as he grips his bass with one hand, the other caressing Patrick’s cheek, gentle and careful.

 

“Show time,” Patrick nods, his fingers curled neatly under Pete’s chin, their eyes meeting in the darkness that blankets them.

 

The rhythm in pumping to the core of their souls, like waves crashing onto the rocks. It’s earth-shattering, it’s powerful, but it’s what they live for, what they long for.

 

It’s the thunderous applause

 

The lightening of the lights of the stage and from the cameras.

 

It’s the pouring of their soul onto the crowd.

 

It’s everything they could ever dream of and more.

 

And it makes everything fall into place, it makes perfect sense.

 

It always has, and it always will.

 

And they kiss.

 

Then, they plunge into the storm _together._

 

**Author's Note:**

> Jeez it's been forever since I posted anything....sorry about that!
> 
> First and foremost - A huge shout-out to [Flame_and_Jade](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Flames_and_Jade/pseuds/Flames_and_Jade) for cheerleading this fic on! I seriously wouldn't be posting fic if it wasn't her :)
> 
> I hoped you enjoyed this little one-shot! I swear i'm working on updates! Please don't kill me! I tend to get side-tracked quite a bit with new stories/fic ideas which is both a blessing and a curse...oops...
> 
> Thank you for reading, loves!


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